The Wizard Chronicles: The Wand of Legends
by MadWhiteRabbit
Summary: One boy. One legacy. One destiny. Each generation always has a set of heroes. Fifteen years after the Great Battle between the Hero and Malistaire Drake, a new threat arises, and this time it focuses on Albert Grimwater. One day, he is confronted by a past he never knew, and thrust into a future he never wanted. Permanently. BOOK 1 OF THE WIZARD CHRONICLES SERIES.
1. Prologue

**Hello, readers. As I promised, I'm back! And with me comes my revised series: The Wizard Chronicles. A few years ago, I left you all with an author's note saying that The Wizard Chronicles is under heavy editing. So after a few months of hard work, I finally come back with my story! **

**For those who have read TWC before: I hope you like it! This is a revised version of the old one. Some of the characters' descriptions and personalities might change, and some characters are converted from main to minor. **

**For those who have not: Likewise, I hope you like this! It might be a bit different from the world of Wizard101, but it still centers on Wizard101 anyway.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_**November 28, 2012, Ravenwood, 12:00 midnight**_

He knew that there was no escape.

His legs were throbbing, his eyes shifting from wide to half-close as jumbled emotions welled up inside him. The world was spinning all around him, just as he had spun around it a few moments ago. He leaned forward on a wall and took several deep breaths, but even if he was trying to replenish his energy, he knew it would run out sooner or later.

_ Just one more time, _he thought, _before he reaches me…_

He looked at the path that he was going to take. _Looks familiar,_ he thought. But then, of course it was. He had been running in circles around the classrooms of Ravenwood, trying to outrun his attacker in a wild goose chase. It was a game of life and death, but Malorn Ashthorn knew that he would reach the latter in just a matter of seconds.

Taking a step forward, Malorn counted to three. He exerted force all in that one step, and then on the other, until he found himself running again. Even in the dead of the night, Malorn could see the sand-colored path clearly. Maybe it was his adrenaline, or maybe it was his determination to live, but either way, Malorn was grateful for such an advantage.

The Ravenwood classrooms became a blur as he ran past them. The trees were sleeping, so there was no hope to wake them up and alert them of the trouble that he got himself into. Bartleby, his favorite tree, was snoring quietly among his much smaller subjects. No one seemed to notice as two Necromancers tried to kill each other.

Malorn considered escaping through the Ravenwood exit, but the gate was closed. Somehow, after the dismissal of classes, someone had locked the gates before Malorn could leave. It was all planned, he knew it, but then, who would execute such a plan?

The guy who is chasing him, obviously.

But why?

_ Run first, _he thought. _Ask questions later._

He took a sharp turn to the left, towards the Death classroom.

_ His _classroom.

_ His_ last refuge.

As he ran, he wiggled his hand through his pockets to reach for the classroom keys. He felt his fingers enclose around the cold, obsidian metal and pulled it out. Stopping in front of the doors, he wasted no time and unlocked its hinges.

The familiar sight was enough to relieve him, but of course, it was interrupted by his chaser's footsteps pounding closer and closer.

Louder and louder.

Nearer and nearer.

Malorn panicked.

_ Calm down, _he thought. _You're the Death Professor. He's only a mere student._

_ A very dangerous, mere student._

Taking deep breaths, he produced his wand out of his pockets and drew the Death sign in the air.

He took a card from his deck and raised it up.

"Banshee" he called out.

The sign disappeared in a sprinkle of black particles and merged again, changing into a much lighter color and bringing about a ghostly atmosphere in the air. The particles starting forming the figure of a thin woman, cheekbones high and eyes sunken deep in her skull. She has a bluish-black complexion, and her hair stood up like strands floating in the water.

Malorn was generally not scared of his spells, but considering his situation right now, he couldn't help but tremble. The banshee stared at him, waiting for his command, her single-dot irises meeting his coffee-brown ones.

"Professor Ashthorn," Malorn's eyes quickly fixed on the door, waiting for _him. _"You decide to take refuge here? How ironic."

The speaker stepped out from the shadows, revealing a hooded figure clad in black. Under his hood, Malorn could see the necromancer's signature smirk.

"You do realize that you've come to a dead end, right professor?" he asked. "Now, you'll need to answer my questions before you die."

Malorn growled. He thrust out his wand at the hooded figure and the banshee immediately understood the signal. She lunged at the smirking necromancer, but was merely swatted aside with the flick of a hand.

Before he knew it, Malorn was already pinned down by the necromancer's bony hands. He could see his face clearly now. Pale skin, onyx eyes, that annoying smirk.

_ Malistaire._

_ Don't panic, _he reminded himself. _He's just trying to jumble your thoughts. Keep cool._

"You see the resemblance, do you?" the necromancer growled. "The face of the man whom your lover killed."

"She was not my lover." Malorn managed to say between gritted teeth.

"Stop with the denials, Ashthorn." the face of a younger Malistaire glared at him, eyes as black as the void. "I know about what happened between you and the Hero. And if you don't answer my questions, then good luck trying to persuade everyone that I'm lying about such a fact."

Malorn glared back. "Why, you-"

"Yes, Professor Ashthorn. I am blackmailing you," he smirked.

"No one will believe you." the Death professor snarled.

"Oh, they will. I'm your top student, after all," the necromancer replied. "But then, if not, then I'm just going to kill you. Now, for my question."

The pale young man gripped harder on Malorn's throat.

"Where is the Hero's Wand?"

Malorn shut his mouth up.

"Where is it?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because you're the one whom she entrusted such a secret."

"Dumb-ass." Malorn growled. "It's not a secret. Everybody knows that the wand lies in the hands of The Hero, deep inside the volcano where she and Malistaire died. Oh, correction. Where she and _your _father died."

Malistaire's son glared in response. "You're saying it too easily." he said through white, gritted teeth. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Well, you aren't such a dumb-ass after all." Malorn locked his eyes with the pale necromancer. "Of course, there's more. Much, much more. And you'll never know it, even if you kill me."

The void-eyed teen smirked. "But not if I torture you, eh?" he pulled out an obsidian knife from his robe-pocket and raised it in front of Malorn. "Spill it out, or else…"

"Or else what, die?" Malorn spat back. "Feel the wrath of your stupid knife?"

"You're a brave one." he gripped the knife-and Malorn's throat-harder. "Let's see if you could endure."

He swung the knife backwards, and with a lot of force, plunged it deep into Malorn's stomach. Blood squirted out, but the pale necromancer only smirked.

The Death Professor's screams of agony echoed all around Wizard City.

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><p><strong>Yeah, I know, it's a bit creepy, and yeah, poor Malorn. But this chapter will give you an insight to what the story will be. Stay tuned for the next update! Probably by Tuesday or Wednesday I'll be able to post it! Hope you like it! And if you do, please review!<strong>

**Thanks to Amaarah01, caleb deathflame, Ashley Redspear, TwinklingDiamond and Eagleflame33 for reviewing and supporting the former story. Cookies to you all! (::)**

**Next chapter will show you the main characters (yup, Malorn is not a main character, but a very important one, though)**

**- C. J. Selgas**


	2. Chapter 1: Hedge-Cutter

**Hello, readers. Sorry for not updating for, like, a week or so, but now here I am with a new chapter! I hope you like it!**

**Special thanks to Amaarah01, who's the most amazing reader in the world. Your support is greatly appreciated, so…FIVE COOKIES FOR YOU! (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) And also to EnderSonic445 for following this story and adding it to his (or her…) favorites! Three cookies to you! (::) (::) (::)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Hedge-Cutter<strong>

**November 28, 2014**

_ Being surrounded by a cloud of mist was supposed to be scary enough, but when Albert realized that he was standing on thin air without support, and that a dark figure was standing a few feet away from him, it would be quite confusing to choose what was the scariest between those three._

_ Beside him, four other wizards in different apparel stood firm and prepared. They all glared at the dark figure, and even if Albert couldn't envision their faces clearly, he knew that they were Ravenwood students. The closest one beside him was obviously a girl, but Albert couldn't tell what her affiliation was. He, in his own way, knew what each type of affiliation would wear, but the four wizards beside him were too enveloped by mist to even reveal what they look like._

_ "Mors Drake…" the girl beside him called out. It seemed to be directed at the figure enveloped in darkness._

_ As if on cue, the dark figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to the light. A raven perched on top of his right shoulder, and he held a black staff in his left hand. His shoulder-length, raven hair was blown to one side by a gust of wind, even if Albert didn't feel any. There was a glint in his onyx eyes that reminded Albert of someone in the history books._

_ It was the face of Malistaire Drake. Well, at least a younger version of him._

_ The Malistaire-wannabe was aged between 17 and 18, probably older than that, but Albert couldn't really tell. The black robes indicated that the guy was a necromancer, but other than that, he was a completely mysterious stranger. _

_ A creepy, scary stranger._

_ "We will defeat you." another voice, this time a male's, said._

_ "You won't get away with your plans." added another girl._

_ The teenage necromancer-Mors-only smirked. He raised his wand-a sign of an attack-and pointed it at them. Albert instinctively reached for his own wand, but it was nowhere to be found._

_ Even his belt was gone…_

Then why didn't my pants fall down? _A small portion of his brain thought._

_ "Rotting Fodder" muttered the Malistaire-wannabe as he waved his wand, forming the Death sign._

_ After the said utterance, the sign broke off into very small particles, wandering around the misty air until they formed a hunched over man in tattered robes. Resting on his rotten, clenched hand, the last of the particles fused with the others and formed a spade. The man, just a while ago showing his back, now turned around and revealed his rotting, horrible face._

_ The Rotting Fodder snarled and lunged at Albert, spade raised and teeth bared. Albert wanted to scream, to shout for help. Without his wand, he was powerless, weak and helpless against an armed monster. Even if the zombie's weapon was a mere spade, it might be strong enough to injure him, or worse…_

_ There a big chance that he'll be meeting his mom on the other side._

_ The rotting fodder raised his spade, ready to attack. Albert staggered back and stumbled, colliding his rump with the somehow hard, cloudy ground. He waited for the impact, but it never came. Instead, the creature opened its mouth, revealing the yellow, rotten teeth._

_ It screamed._

_ "EEEEEKKKKK!"_

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><p>"NO! I DON'T WANNA DIE!" he screamed as he sat upright from his bed, beading with sweat.<p>

But the nightmare wasn't over.

"EEEEKKKK!"

A monstrous, beaked face with large, bulging eyes was looming over him, getting bigger and bigger, nearer and nearer…

_ Wait…_

"OWWWW!" Albert cried out. The stupid toy had collided its beak square on the area between Albert's two eyes. And no, it wasn't a mere sharp tingle.

It was total pain.

Right now, he wished that he could've just used his alarm clock, but _noooo_, he substituted it with a forehead-stabbing, evil toy Dodo bird. Yesterday night, Albert had decided that the alarm clock's sound had become too annoying, so he wondered if he could replace it with a new and improvised version instead. He grabbed the toy and applied some enchantments so that on exactly six o'clock in the morning, it would land straight on his stomach and into some of his tickly spots so that he could wake up immediately.

It wasn't enchanted to hit him straight on the forehead.

Albert looked at his watch.

7:30!?

He growled.

"You're supposed to wake me up at six in the morning!" he shouted to the Dodo bird. "Are you freakin' kidding me?!"

No reply. He didn't bother to wait for one, either.

Because right now, Albert was bothering with a problem of his own.

_ Oh, no… _he thought problematically. _I'm freakin' late._

On a typical day, Albert would wake up at six o'clock, take a bath, eat breakfast, brush his teeth and prepare himself for school. By 6:30 he was already out of his house and on his way to school, usually by legs and not by broom, because he had some kind of motion sickness and would throw up after two minutes of riding such a thing.

Right now, he was pretty sure he'll be opted to vomit.

After a few minutes of stumbling and grunting and cold water splashed directly at his face, Albert changed into his Theurgist robes and bolted straight for the stairs, which was actually not a good idea, especially since Albert was in a hurry. Midway downstairs, he tripped on his own legs and fell headfirst on the floor.

He let out a muffled groan.

Albert looked at his watch again. It was 7:45

_ 15 minutes,_ he thought, _before my life enters total oblivion and never-ending embarrassment._

Instead of sitting down and eating, Albert just grabbed a piece of loaf bread and bolted straight for the door, occasionally stumbling and face-planting his face on the matted floor. He didn't know why he was falling down so much, but by the time he exited his house, he was pretty sure that he looked like a total mess.

The fresh air hit his face as he stepped out of his humble abode. Unicorn Way was peaceful, as always, tapped in with a little hustle and bustle of wizards walking in every direction. Albert couldn't possibly ride on a broom amidst such a large crowd, right?

Unfortunately, it wasn't a formidable excuse to walk and get late for school.

Reluctantly, Albert thrust out his hand and summoned his unused-for-almost-a-year broom. As soon as he felt the oaken surface touch his palms, Albert immediately wanted to blast it back into oblivion.

_ No choice, Al, _he thought to himself. _Throw up, or get late._

He mounted his broom and forced himself not to vomit as it revved full speed.

"Excuse me, coming through!" he said to unknown strangers as his ride reached the tunnel towards the Commons. The area was half-dark, but bright enough for him to see anyone who might collide with his mount.

Miraculously, Albert had managed to dodge walking civilians blocking his way. It wasn't a daily routine for him to tour around Wizard City using a broom, or even use such a ride, and this activity was a first for him, so being _not_ sucky at it was a surprise. Either it was because of his determination to reach school on time, but Albert didn't care.

Somehow he had managed to hold back a lump on his throat that wanted to escape his mouth for a few minutes, but his endurance eventually gave up and a small amount of his digested breakfast escaped his lips, landing on the branch of a nearby tree without anyone noticing. Heaving a sigh of relief, Albert steered his broom to the left and passed an area where there were less wizards around.

He looked at his watch, which was kind of a bad option considering he was in a hurry.

7:58!?

_ Oh crud… I'm-, _he thoughts were interrupted as his face collided with a moss covered wall.

He should've been thankful that the growth of the moss was thick or he would've broken his nose, but inside Albert's thoughts, it was a sea of _darnitdarnitdarnitdarnit!._

And it wasn't just a wall.

It was a part of the Ravenwood gate.

Albert stepped down from his broom and dismissed it, the mount flying away from him as it dwindled into a single dot in the blue sky. Albert, fully recovered from the annoying impact, hurriedly bolted inside the entrance and veered to the left, towards the Life classroom.

"I wouldn't enter the classroom if I were you." a voice said. Albert stopped on his tracks and searched for the source of the sound.

"Who are you?" he called out, "Where are you?"

"Here" the voice, clearly a male, answered. Albert turned around and came face to face with a blonde-haired man.

Albeit, an armed, blonde-haired man.

Albert stepped back. Who wouldn't? The guy was holding a bladed staff, for Bartleby's sake! And he looked deadly. Very, very deadly.

He wanted to scream for help, or run to the nearest classroom and inform them of the threat. In fact, he could do that right now if the weird man wasn't gripping his shoulder. _Darn,_ he thought, _the guy's fast._

"Don't shout, kid." the man said. "No need to get scared of me. I'm the hedge-cutter of this school."

_ Hedge-cutter?_ Albert thought, _What kind of occupation is that? Oh no, maybe he doesn't mean hedge-cutter. Maybe he means head-cutter!_

"This blade doesn't penetrate human skin, kid." the guy added. "It cuts leaves."

_ Oh…_

"Now, we have no time to waste. I need to tell you something, kid." he gripped Albert's shoulders harder. "If you enter your classroom today, something bad will happen. If you don't, and if you return home, something bad will happen, too."

"Any good news?" Albert asked. He obviously didn't take the warning seriously. "Because I think the two previous ones were all bad."

"I'm not joking, Albert Grimwater." the guy replied sharply. "You need to be prepared for the trouble you'll be facing."

Albert snorted. _Me? Get in trouble? _he thought, _As far as I know, I'm a good kid!_

"I have no time for jokes, Mister Hedge-Cutter." he tried to escape the guy's iron grip. "I'm late for class. Can I go now?"

Mr. Hedge-Cutter's large forehead gleamed under the sun, which made Albert almost laugh if not for the guy's glare. "Fine, don't take me seriously, boy." he spat, then his face softened. "Just, please. Prepare yourself. Keep your guard up. Be careful."

Somehow, Albert took note of the guy's words. He might've acted calm in front of Mr. Hedge-Cutter, but that's just because he wanted to run away from the creep. Deep inside he was violently trembling with fear. And he took Mr. Hedge-Cutter's words seriously.

As soon as the man broke free of Albert, he immediately bolted for the Life classroom, not even turning around to face the man one last time.

And when he did, Mr. Hedge-Cutter was gone.

Disappeared.

Which resulted in Albert colliding, yet again, on something solid and hard.

It was Blossom.

_ Oh no…_

"Good morning, Bloss-"

"YOU! WHY ARE YOU LATE!"

Albert looked at his watch.

8:10

"Yup, I'm late, I know. But let me-"

"NOT ONLY LATE, YOUNG MAN. YOU ARE 10 MINUTES LATE!" the tree screamed. "AND YOUR POINTY NOSE NEARLY DAMAGED MY BEAUTIFUL SKIN!"

Albert hadn't seen the Tree of Life so angry. On a normal day, Blossom would greet _non-late_ students as they entered the Life classroom. Maybe, it was not the same for late ones.

"Hey! My pointy nose was the one nearly damaged by your-"

"What's going on here?!" Prof. Griffinlife's voice boomed out.

Albert was really getting annoyed at the interruptions.

"Bad morning-err-good morning, Professor." he greeted.

"Mr. Grimwater, why are you late?"

"My alarm clock-"

"Your alarm clock what?"

"My alarm clock," he paused, in case one of his two interrogators decided to interrupt. "malfunctioned."

"That's no excuse Mr. Grimwater." Professor Griffinlife replied. "As far as I know, you arrive at Ravenwood every 7:00. That means your alarm clock is set to wake you up at 6:30. If your alarm clock malfunctioned you would've been awakened 30 minutes late and you will arrive here by 7:30. That means, something happened that interrupted your journey to school."

"I used a toy instead of an alarm clock. The toy hit me in the forehead. I woke up. I rode a broom. I threw up. I hit a wall." Albert took a breath, then resumed. "Then I hit Blossom, who proceeded to ask me questions without letting me answer. The end."

He decided not to tell them his experience with Mr. Hedge-Cutter. Albert felt that it was personal, and he intended to find out what Mr. Hedge-Cutter meant later.

The bespectacled professor sighed.

"Fine," Professor Griffinlife muttered. "Get in."

_ If you enter the Life classroom today, something bad will happen._ Mr. Hedge-Cutter had said.

_ Maybe he's just joking, _Albert thought.

Decision made, he stepped inside the classroom, following Prof. Griffinlife.

After that, Albert's life was never the same again.

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><p><strong>And there it is! Chapter 1 is finished! Hope you like it! Once again, thank you to Amaarah01, who surprised me by being the first to review the story yet again! You're, like, the most amazing reviewer ever to live on Earth. By the way, can you tell me if my writing style has differed greatly from my previous writing style? Also, T<strong>**hanks to EnderSonic445 for following and putting this on his Favorites!**

**And remember: Reviews are update fuel! So review!**

**Merry Christmas everyone!**

**- C. J. Selgas**


	3. Chapter 2: Arvie Tail-On-Fire

**Hello, readers. I'm back! And with me comes the second chapter, in which I will be introducing another main character. I would also like to inform you all that the character's point of views wouldn't be all Albert. After I have introduced all of them, the POVs will change, revolving around each character's perspective. **

**Ammaarah01: I think there ARE hedges inside the Ravenwood school. And they're cleanly cut in a square shape. I'm not really sure, since the Wizard101 game in my computer has been deleted by some unknown dweeb and I'm going to have to download it again sometime. But anyways, your question will be answered a few chapters later, don't worry. :)**

**DeathySophia: Thank you so much for your review. I appreciate the fact that you liked chapter 1. Three cookies for you! (::) (::) (::) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wizard101 and Star Wars. Albert Grimwater and the other OC's, though, are mine.**

**Okay, here's chapter 2!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Arvie Tail-On-Fire<strong>

Nothing bad happened inside the classroom, so Albert assumed that Mr. Hedge-Cutter had just played a cruel joke on him.

"You look terrible." his seatmate commented as Albert sat awkwardly in his chair, trying to hide his red, embarrassed face. He could hear snickers everywhere, especially on the other row, where most Death students-who chose Life as their second class-sat.

"Not helping, man." he craned his neck to the right to face the critic. "Wait, who are you?"

For a split second, he saw a different person. The guy facing him wasn't the imp of a best friend that he had. He was older. Much older. He grinned at Albert mischievously, as if he was planning a very tricky scheme and Albert was going to be the victim. The guy looked like someone you could only see in the history books. That sandy-blonde hair, those grey eyes. He was _definitely _someone from Wizard City's past. An important person, perhaps. Albert just couldn't remember who.

Then the apparition disappeared, and it was replaced by the elfin face of Jonathan Fairbane, his brown hair extremely spiky, as if he just recovered from electrocution.

"You're asking me who I am?" Jonathan replied. "Very well then. Luke, I am your father."

Albert rolled his eyes. "Never mind the question. I was just a little stunned." he said exasperatedly. "Where did you get that line from?"

"Nothing in particular." Jonathan answered, tousling his electrified hair. "Some random idea that sprang from my head."

Albert stared at his friend's crazy hairdo. "What happened to you?"

Jonathan let out a chuckle. "Got electrified by a diviner a few moments ago." he sighed. "Flirting has some consequences."

"Dude, you're too young to flirt."

"And you're too old to play with toys." Jonathan added.

"I wasn't playing with the Dodo bird!"

"Problem back there?" Professor Griffinlife asked. She was, like, a few feet away from the two of them, but her voice was loud and clear.

"Nothing, ma'am." Albert replied.

"Good." she leaned down on her desk to grab something underneath. "Now that everyone is set, I will be distributing a card to each of you. As usual, all of you will attempt to cast the spell given to you. Fail, and you won't acquire a card. But if you succeed, you will acquire the card _and_ you will level up."

Everyone groaned. Some muttered about how the drill was getting repetitive, while others started asking Prof. Griffinlife why they were supposed to cast spells again and again.

"It's to gain experience, young man." she replied.

"Yeah, gain experience." someone mumbled. "My parents said that in the old days wizards used to fight monsters to gain experience, and they usually don't occur inside the classroom."

"Those were the old days, boy." Prof. Griffinlife retorted. "That's what they did before the Hero defeated Malistaire. After that event, the monsters left. Peace was restored."

"And then this happens…"

Prof. Griffinlife just sighed as she handed out each of them a card.

Albert didn't particularly hate his class, but he was starting to side with his bored classmates. He sure does agree with their opinion; that the drill was getting repetitive. Everyday, they would enter the classroom, be given a card to cast and fate knows what to do with the rest. It was the Ravenwood daily routine, not only for Life students, but for everyone studying in Ravenwood. He couldn't blame the school staff, though. While the absence of monsters was an advantage for the city, it was a disadvantage for the learning wizards.

"Hey Al, what did you get?" Jonathan asked. Albert was too deep in thought to realize that Prof. Griffinlife was finished with the distribution. He looked at his own card.

"A seraph." _Wait, a seraph? But…that's a Level 22 spell! I'm only Level 21, for Bartleby's sake!_

"I got a satyr." Jonathan replied. "Pretty cool, right?"

"Yeah." Albert mumbled, although he wasn't fully concentrated on his friend's question. "Good for you."

"I'm only level 25. A satyr is a Level 26 spell, right?" Jonathan pointed out. "Maybe, if we cast the spell successfully, we'll level up!"

"You obviously weren't listening to Professor Griffinlife earlier." Albert said, picking up the thin piece of paper. He took out his wand from his bag.

"Alright, you can start!" Prof. Griffinlife ordered. "Double time, people!"

Albert started drawing the sign of life in the air. Green rays of light spewed out from his wand, following his movement. Then, he pointed it at the card and spoke one word:

"Seraph."

The sign disintegrated.

It stayed that way.

_ Epic fail, Albert._

He craned his neck to the right to see how Jonathan was doing.

At first, all he saw was a satyr, prancing around his seatmate's desk like a ballerina. Now, as far as Albert could remember, a satyr wasn't supposed to act like that. But before he could fully absorb the issue inside his mind, his thoughts transferred to the guy casting the spell.

The guy definitely wasn't Jonathan.

It was the man he saw a few minutes ago. The guy whose name he couldn't quite remember.

Something like Arvie…Tail-On-Fire…?

_ That's utterly random, Albert. _he thought to himself. _Think seriously._

He didn't have the time, though, because at that moment Arvie stared at him, his glistening teeth grinning mischievously.

"_Albert Grimwater." _Arvie called out, his voice sounding like three people in one body.

At that point, Albert felt a chill running down his spine. He had a sudden thought about Mr. Hedge-Cutter's warning: _If you enter the classroom today, something bad will happen._

The event happening right now wasn't considered bad, right?

_ It might be downright creepy at first, _Albert thought, _but there's a big chance it'll turn bad…_

_ "He's after you…" _Arvie added. "_Be-"_

And that's when Albert slapped Arvie in the face.

"OWWW!" Jonathan's voice bellowed. "What did you do that for, man?"

_ Huh?_

In the place of Arvie, there sat Jonathan, cupping his red cheek.

_ Where'd he go?_

"Hello? Wizard City to Albert!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Did you know that you just slapped the Great Jonathan Fairbane in the face?!"

"Jonathan." Albert said firmly. "Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"Arvie."

Jonathan's face fell for a moment, then he regained his composure. "A-Arvie? Who's Arvie?"

Albert didn't reply. _So he doesn't know…_

"Nevermind." he finally said. "Don't bother about the question."

"You're acting weird lately, Al." Jonathan pointed out. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Albert answered. He looked around the classroom, trying to find a sign of a guy named Arvie. Instead, he was overcome by the realization that the room was full of summoned creatures. His face fell. "Except for the fact that most of the students are finished casting a spell, while I am not."

He hastily drew a Life sign in the air, an intricately drawn leaf marked in light-green color, and pointed his wand at the still-untouched card.

"Seraph."

The sign dissolved, scattering around a small radius, then proceeded to change color. Green altered to blue and white and yellow, until all of the particles, in their respective hues, started forming the Seraph. It wasn't later on that the blonde-haired spell stared at Albert with its intense, blue eyes.

Then it disintegrated, its essence returning to the card.

"Well, I see that each one of you have cast a spell!" Prof. Griffinlife's voice drowned out all the remaining noise. "So this means that you will acquire your respective cards, and you will Level up!"

As usual, no one was interested. The cards all escaped from everyone's grips and hid itself inside their spell decks.

Albert looked at the clock.

9:00 am.

"CLASS DISMISSED!" a student exclaimed. "FREEDOM!"

Before Prof. Griffinlife could say another word, chaos broke out. Everyone stood up from their seats and bolted for the door. Jonathan, in particular, was the first to step outside, followed closely by Albert.

"Hey, where are you gonna eat for lunch?" Jonathan asked, trying to pry out something from his bag.

"In Unicorn Way." Albert replied. "I'm going to see my father."

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><p>Albert's father was the Death Professor of Ravenwood.<p>

And no, his name isn't Malistaire Drake. Or Malorn Ashthorn. He was too kind to become the former and he wasn't particularly in the best of terms with the latter, even after the guy died.

His name is Duncan Grimwater. Big-Daddy Supreme.

"Hey, dad!" Albert called out as he ran towards his father. Duncan's blue eyes were staring on the water, possibly due to the fact that he had nothing to do but wait. He had taken off his hood right now to show his curly black hair, which, as he stated, was one of the reason that Alebrt's mother married him.

Professor Grimwater turned around to face Albert, a smile curving up on his face. "Ah, Albert. Finally. I thought I was going to die of boredom." he let out a small chuckle.

"Professor Griffinlife is to blame." Albert replied, sitting beside his father. "But at least I'm here now. Man, I'm starving!"

Habitually, Proffessor Grimwater tousled his son's curly, brown hair. Albert was used to it, though, so he didn't mind his father's hands ruffling through his hair as he ate his lunch.

"Boy, look how much you've grown." Duncan commented. "You look so much like her now. With those pair of emerald eyes, most people would say you're that male version of your mother. Ah, I remember the times when…"

He proceeded to ramble about Albert's mother, whom he hadn't actually seen since birth. Duncan had said that she died a few days after he was born, which kind of made Albert feel like he was to blame. But then, he always felt that it was a lie. He _assured _himself that it was a lie, just because he felt that it was the right idea.

For years, Albert had wondered who his mom really was. His dad had said that she was a Theurgist, like Albert, and that they had met in Triton Avenue when she was just an Adept Wizard. He had been snobbish to her, but eventually he softened up. In fact, he softened up not only to her, but to the whole Wizard City community. Duncan said that she was the reason for his change, and he owed her that. But he hadn't exactly told Albert who she was. Even when he gave Albert an answer, the mystery still wasn't solved.

Who was she?

"Dad." he started. Duncan stopped talking. "Who's my mom?"

Duncan seemed to get speechless at this. "I-I told you son. She's the most beautiful, kindest, greatest, most awesome-"

"No, I mean…" he paused. "What's her name?"

Duncan was silent for a few moments.

"She…" he stammered. "She was…her name was…"

And that's when Albert realized how hard he was pushing his father. Something was definitely wrong to make him act like that. Albert didn't know what it was, but it seemed personal. And he respected personal space.

"Dad-"

"No, it's okay son." he gave off his signature smile. "I was only startled. As for your question…sorry, but I cannot answer that. Soon, son, you'll know."

Albert didn't reply back. He didn't want to make things worse. His father was starting to emotionally break. Albert could see it in his eyes. Those blue orbs, once filled with simple joy and kindness, now seemed to resemble fragile glass.

"Come along now, Albert." Duncan called, cutting off Albert from his thoughts. "Lunch is over. Second period starts now."

_Right,_ Albert thought. _Second period. _

"You don't want to be late for class _again._" his father let out a small chuckle, as if the previous events didn't happen.

"You heard?"

"Blossom is a big chit-chatter." Duncan proceeded to pick up their lunch. "Alright then, let's go!"

Albert wasn't reluctant to follow his father, but something was pulling him away, trying to force him to stay. Whispering voices were warning him about something. Saying unintelligible yet, in another way, somehow understandable words.

_Don't..._

Mr. Hedge-Cutter's warnings...

_We're they coming true?_

He forced himself to ignore the thought. Mr. Hedge-Cutter was only joking.

_He was only playing a cruel joke. Period._

"Albert?" Duncan called out, yet again cutting Albert away from his thoughts. "Let's go."

Albert nodded, shaking off the feeling that this was a bad idea. He took his father's hand and together, the two of them walked towards the Death classroom.

If Mr. Hedge-Cutter was there, Albert didn't see him.

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><p><strong>And it's finished! Chapter 2 is finally done! What could Mr. Hedge-Cutter be planning? Hmmm, the action's just starting to rise. Hope you like this chappie! So, do you like Jonathan or not? And who's this eponymous Arvie Tail-On-Fire? (For those who've already figured out, please! No spoilers!)<strong>

**Anyways, please review. Remember: Reviews are update fuel. The more reviews I get, the more motivated I am to update.**

**EDIT: I've changed the ending of this chapter so that it would fit with the beginning of the next one. Hope you weren't bothered by the confusion. **

**C. J. Selgas**


	4. Chapter 3: Revelations

**Hello, readers. I'm back! Sorry for the long wait. I'd just want to tell you all that update on this story will be very irregular. You might find a new chapter updated today, and the next one posted a few months later (that doesn't happen a lot, don't worry.) or you might find a new chapter posted today and the next one posted a few minutes later (that doesn't happen a lot, either.) I'm still twelve years old and I have a life outside of , you know.**

**For those who HAVE NOT read the edited version of Chapter 2, I suggest that you read it first as so to avoid confusion when reading this chapter. **

**Special thanks, yet again, to Ammaarah01. Seriously, your support is greatly appreciated. :)**

**Oh, and also, criticism is very much welcome. I really want to see what people think about this story, be it negative or positive. Criticism helps me improve in my future chapters. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Revelations<strong>

Albert felt a sense of dread as he stood in front of the dark-tinted building, but that was just natural, since the Death classroom _always _emanated fear in every wizard, students and professors alike. But when you get to see the interior of the area, you would mistake it for another classroom. The neatly arranged oaken desks, the obsidian chandelier and the whiteboard in front of everything else would make you think that the place was for other affinities, all except the Death class.

It nearly made Albert forget all his current problems.

But then, of course, another weirdo decided to show up.

This time, he wasn't wielding a bladed staff. The guy was obviously a Necromancer, with the black robes and the black cape and the black _everything__._ Albert really couldn't tell how old he was, because the guy's face was covered by a hood, showing only shadows and his dark, onyx eyes. And he was _smirking._

A familiar one, too.

Albert raised his right hand, nodded at the necromancer and muttered "Hi?"

"Albert," his father called out. Albert turned around to face Prof. Grimwater, but then realized his big mistake. When he turned again to look at the necromancer, the guy was gone. "Is something bothering you, son?"

_I'm having too much hallucinations. _Albert thought, _Maybe it's because of the loaf bread..._

"Nothing, dad." he lied.

"Well then, let's get inside," Duncan opened the door, revealing an estimate of two dozen kids waiting for him.

Albert, ignoring the stares coming his way, decided to immediately head for his seat.

"Good morning, class!" Prof. Grimwater greeted with a loud voice. He sounded strict, as always. It's weird how your parents can change from cool and awesome father to strict and cold teacher. "Ready for the test?"

He was replied by lots of noes and zero yeses.

"Alright!" he shouted to get everyone's attention. "As you can see, there's already a card resting on your desk. You know the drill, now cast!"

The thin, foil-made paper projected the image of a green-skinned, bony creature. It stared right at Albert with its black-dot pupils, almost resembling those of a banshee. If ever Albert was opted to choose two spellcards that were perfect for each other, he'd say a Rotting Fodder and a Banshee.

_Rotting Fodders...argh, darn it. Can't concentrate._

The creature in the card reminded him of his dream. He remembered the grotesque face, the spade ready to strike at him...

The necromancer...

Could it be...

_By Bartleby..._

The guy outside...it was _him._

_Don't turn around, _Albert forced himself. _Don't..._

_Ugh, you little rebel._

Albert craned his neck, veering his eyes towards the windows. He stared at the bushes and the trees, in the area where he spotted the necromancer staring at him. The creepy stalker's got to be somewhere near that place.

He found none.

_What's happening to me?_

"STOP!" Prof. Grimwater exclaimed. As defiant as the students were, everyone obeyed. A few creatures stopped moving, and then disappeared. Albert realized that his card was still intact.

"I am very disappointed." Prof. Grimwater started. "Only two have managed to summon a creature, and they weren't even successful at first."

Albert's father paused for a while to stare at all of his students, a glare starting to form. "And because of this, I will give you all an assignment: Practice the specific spell I gave you. I will temporarily give the spell cards to you. By tomorrow, if you don't succeed in casting the spell, I will take them away. But if you do, though, you will acquire the card and own it permanently. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," was the majority of replies.

"Alright, then. Class dismissed."

Unlike the Life class, the Death students were extremely disciplined. Everyone stood up in unison and exited the room while falling in line. If ever someone broke the rule, they were given harmful doses of Prof. Grimwater's death glares.

"Albert, wait for me outside." Duncan instructed. Albert was quick to obey. He stepped out of the classroom and leaned on a tree, watching his classmates go by.

He never really knew most of them, even if they greeted "Hi!" and waved at him as he stood there, waiting impatiently for his father to come out. The only wizard he called a friend was Jonathan, even if the guy seemed to have a multiple personality disorder. One second he was himself, and by the time you look at him again he's a completely different person. It mostly happens when the professors were giving a test. Whenever his 'other side' takes over, he _never _fails any trial.

Unlike Albert, who was still bothered by the failure he had done a while ago.

It was quite disappointing to fail at casting a spell, especially in front of his father. Albert assured himself that he hadn't cast a spell, so he hadn't technically failed at casting, but he still prepared himself for the reprimanding that Duncan will give him later on.

The failure wasn't his fault, though. Well, it wasn't _completely _his fault. The necromancer and Albert's growing paranoia is to be given credit for that. He wanted to erase all of those bothersome things out of his mind. It was making him insane.

Two minutes passed. Three minutes. Albert couldn't keep track of the time. _When will dad get out of there? _he asked himself. _My legs are aching and there's nothing to sit in._

Finally, his intolerance for the delay gave in. Albert exasperatedly sighed, left his hanging-out post and proceeded to open the classroom's door.

As if on cue, too, Duncan Grimwater stepped out.

Albert stepped back, slightly surprised at his father's sudden exit. Duncan, for a moment, glared at his son before his mood changed and he became Big Daddy Supreme again. The usual smile gradually appeared on his face, but there was something odd about it. The right side seemingly wanted to stretch farther.

"Dad, is something bothering you?" Albert asked. His father looked confused. "I mean, your mouth is acting weird. Got a toothache or something?"

"Huh?" was Duncan's reply. "No, it's nothing, boy."

_Boy? _Albert thought, suddenly offended. _I'm not a boy, for Bartleby's sake. I'm a man!_

"Well, then. Come along now, Albert." he started walking, gesturing his son to do the same. "Let's go home to Triton Avenue."

"Triton Avenue?"

"Err, I'm sorry. Unicorn Way." Duncan rubbed his temples, laughing tensely. "It's just that, I have some...business to attend to there later. The name kind of crossed in front of my brain, so...yeah, let's head to Unicorn Way."

"What business?"

"New student." he answered. "Theur...err...Necromancer."

He sounded so stressed, as usual. Albert decided not to ask him further questions. He proceeded to enter through the tunnel leading to Unicorn Way, but somehow, Duncan had other plans.

His father veered towards the other way, towards the tunnel leading to the Golem Court.

"Hey, Dad!" Albert called out. Duncan stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Albert? Why are you heading for the Market Center...I mean..." his eyes looked up, as if the answer was hanging above him. "...The Shopping District?"

"But this isn't the tunnel towards the Shopping District! This is heading for Unicorn Way!" to prove his point Albert pointed at the plaque above the arched entrance.

Duncan didn't insist further. All he could reply was: "Oh..."

Albert gave out a hearty laugh, but deep inside he was starting to get concerned. Was his father too stressed? If so, then the guy should rest when they get home.

Albert's father sighed, wrinkle marks appearing on his face. "Let's go, then."

Father and son proceeded to enter the tunnel, with Albert in the lead. Was it possible for stress to remove a few memories from someone, to the point where they couldn't familiarize their usual surroundings? Duncan was holding his son's shoulder in a tight grip, as if he didn't want to release his hold in fear of getting lost.

_Why would he get lost? _Albert thought to himself. _He's more familiar with this street than I am._

"Albert, why did we stop?" Duncan asked as Albert stood in front of a two-story building. "Something wrong?"

Albert gave a nervous laugh. "Dad, nothing's wrong with me." he replied. "There's something wrong with you, though. Don't you recognize our house?"

"I-I do." He tried to fix his composure, trying to smile and giving off a laugh. But at that moment Albert saw a different side of him. Whenever he tried to smile, the right side of his mouth twitched, as if his lips wanted to do a _different_ pose. His laugh was tense, too. "I'm sorry if my discomfort bothers you, _boy._ It's just that...I'm too tired right now, okay? Now, can we get inside?"

Albert stared at his father for a moment. "Sure, dad."

He took out his wand from his bag and pointed it at the locked doorknob. It was a famous trend for all wizards; the owners would point their wands at the locked knobs and utter a secret 'password', as they call it.

"_W__oodalice" _Albert muttered. He wondered how his father thought up of the password. It sounded like a mix of candy and trees. The doors emitted a _click! _sound, and before they could fully reveal the interior room, Duncan forcefully pushed them as he bolted inside.

"Close the doors" Duncan ordered. Albert, as usual, obeyed, but he wondered why his father ordered such a strange request. It wasn't a habit of him to close the doors. Stereotypically thinking, a Necromancer was supposed to _love _darkness, but Duncan was fond of the radiance entering his abode.

Light gradually faded away as Albert pushed the doors to a close. Thankfully, there were still two sources of illumination. He could still perceive things clearly without darkness acting as a nuisance.

"Finally," Duncan muttered. His back was facing his son, but Albert could still feel a grin creeping up Duncan's face. "My plan is nearing success."

Albert raised an eyebrow, confused at his father's statement. "What do you mean, dad?"

_"Albert, duck!_" was someone's irrelevant reply.

_Huh?_

At that moment, Mr. Hedge-Cutter's warning started becoming true./

Before Albert could react further, a barrage of beetles broke through the closed doors. Light emanated from the destruction, encasing darkness with illumination.

The group was so thick, it sent the entrance blockage flying towards the staircases. Some of them clawed at Albert's face as he tried to fish out his wand from his bag, but most insects passed him and headed for the main target: Duncan Grimwater.

Albert cast a Life shield around himself, letting the beetles bounce harmlessly off his protective field. His father wasn't so lucky, though. His Death shield gave up, the beetles closed in on him and sooner or later Duncan Grimwater was bombarded by an estimation of a hundred insects.

The beetles were the result of a spell, Albert knew. Specifically, it was a sorcerer's spell. He couldn't think of another affiliation that loved summoning beetles, especially sandy-yellow ones.

The attack didn't stop. Although the barrage was very thick, Albert could see the annihilator. _Annihilators. _They cast shadows against the doorway as they stood there, wands aimed directly at Duncan. Albert couldn't think of anyone wanting to kill his father. As far as he knew, Duncan had a reputation for being the non-stereotypical, nice Death professor of Ravenwood.

"You fools!" Duncan screamed, possibly directed at the attackers. Albert didn't notice it at first, but there was a change in his voice. "Do you think you could stop me with these puny insects?!"

_Stop you from what? _Albert wanted to ask, but he was too busy protecting himself from the beetles. The insects had put him on his knees, forcing him to kneel down to keep a better balance.

He craned his neck to the right, aligning his chin with his right shoulder, risking a glance at his back.

"Dad..."

Serpentine shadows encircled the Death professor, lashing and biting at beetles who dared to interrupt their revolution. They entwined each other around themselves, creating a six-foot long half-sphere made of onyx mist. The black, thick fog enclosed around Duncan as he waved his casting stick in circles.

_Wait, a wand? _Albert noticed. _But...dad uses a staff!_

As soon as the noticeable force field appeared, the beetle spell stopped its magic. All the insects disintegrated into sand, crowding the house in golden dust that looked inferior to the black, smoky orb in the center.

Albert squinted his eyes, wiping sand off his face and his clothes.

"Ah, finally!" someone exclaimed. "It was a pain disguising as that Death professor."

Albert looked up, towards the source of the voice. The snaky shadows neared him as they left their entwined positions, gradually evaporating as they hover around. The person they protected a few moments ago...

...wasn't Duncan Grimwater anymore.

A completely different person was standing in his father's position.

And Albert knew him.

He wore different clothes, but there was no doubt. The shoulder-length, raven hair, those onyx eyes, that _smirk_ and the resemblance the Malistaire Drake. It all fell perfectly into place. The young adult in front of him was the necromancer in his nightmares. The stalker outside the Death classroom.

"M-Mors Drake" Albert stammered.

The necromancer leered at Albert, his mouth curved in his signature, twisted smirk. "Hello, Albert Grimwater." he greeted menacingly. "Or, should I say, _the son of the Hero."_

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><p><strong>I know what you're thinking: NOOOOO! CLIFFHANGER!<strong>

**Well, sorry for doing that. I just love doing cliffies. Hopefully everyone loves hanging at the edge of a cliff.**

**Anyways, Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! Remember to review if you like this chapter! Reviews are update fuel people!**

**- C. J. Selgas**


	5. Chapter 4: Nightwood

**Hello, readers! I almost had writers block while trying to type this chapter, so I hope it's worth the read!**

**Quote Ammaarah01: LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE!**

**I would like you all to take note that this story takes place 15 years after The Hero defeated Malistaire and killed herself in the process. It's set in an alternate Spiral where Morganthe never existed. Everything was converted to peace after the Great Battle. And so, since it's an alternate Spiral, I would like to inform you all that some concepts from he game that are applied to this story might differ from the original, like the levels, the spells and so on and so forth.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Nightwood<strong>

It was "Luke, I am your father." in reverse.

_Albert, I am _not _your father. _or _Albert, she is your mother._

He should have been shocked at Mors' statement. A million emotions would have welled up inside him, each feeling taking over his brain until it was replaced by the next. He could have shouted "Liar!" and blasted the necromancer into a million pieces.

Instead, all Albert could blurt out was: "But...the Hero never even had a boyfriend!"

The Hero? His mother? Impossible. They didn't have enough evidence to prove that! If he was the Hero's son, then...

Then...

Albert couldn't think of any reason.

Darn.

Mors turned around, the signature smirk still plastered on his face. "The Hero makes mistakes, Albert. On a particular day she made a big decision and the next thing she knew she was already in bed with Duncan Grimwater." he replied, leering. Albert could see the necromancer's fingers reaching out for the back of his robes, pulling something obsidian from behind. "Now, it's time to eradicate the product of _that _mistake-"

Albert? A mistake?

"Stop right there, Mors Drake!" ordered a familiar voice. A bladed staff grazed Mors' ear and impaled a chair. The black blade was already inches away from Albert's nose, the two pointy tips nearly touching each other, but he managed to move his head to look at the speaker. "You have no right to harm Albert Grimwater."

The dirty-blonde hair gave it all away. He stood there, leaning against the side of the doorway. Albert didn't know if his claim was real; that he cut hedges for a living, which was kind of unbelievable considering Ravenwood technically didn't _need _a hedge-cutter. But Albert was definitely _sure _that he lied about his bladed staff. _This blade doesn't penetrate human skin, kid. It cuts leaves. _He had said. Cuts leaves, eh? Doesn't penetrate human skin? Is Mors' skin an exception?

"Mr. Hedge-Cutter!" Albert managed to say before Mors' fingers encircled tightly around his neck.

"Get near me," Mors started. Gripping Albert in a choking attack, Mors lifted him up and proceeded to ensnare Albert in a hostage's position. "Get near me, and he dies."

He strengthened his point by aiming the knife straight at Albert's forehead.

An average wizard could've said "By Bartleby, I don't wanna die!" or "Save me!" or "Mors is a jerk,". A greater than average person could've tried to escape Mors' grip and kick him in the groin. A _very much greater _than average person could've used his speshul powahs and blasted Mors to oblivion.

Albert, however, was none of the above.

He was thinking of other things in mind.

_I could only see one guy standing at the doorway, _A small part of his brain thought. Yet again, Albert knew that there would be a debate between his large and small brain portions. _That's Mr. Hedge-Cutter._

_Yup, it's him_. Replied the large portion. _Do I care?_

_I'm telling you, there's only _one _person standing at the doorway._ The small part repeated.

_You already said that._

_Can't you see? _the small fraction insisted. _There's only _one! _Where's the other?_

In a split second, Albert realized that the _other _attacker was missing. He had seen _two _of them standing at the doorway as the barrage of beetles ensued chaos inside the house. Albert hadn't seen someone walk away from the door. When the beetle attack ended, he had still seen two of them standing at the doorway.

_Where is he?_

The answer was replied by someone speaking from behind.

"Let him go" the currently anonymous person ordered. "Defy me, and you turn to stone."

The voice definitely wasn't appropriate for _his _gender.

_Wait, _Albert thought, _He's a she?_

Mors didn't oblige to the warning. He simply chuckled and, even without Albert looking, obviously smirked.

He pressed the knife closer to Albert's temple, near enough for the blade's tip to send tingles to Albert's nerves. Perspiration trickled down his face. Too many of it. His robe was drenched in sweat, and Albert didn't like it. His stomach was churning and a lump was forming in his throat. The feeling was making him sick.

Panic.

He hated feeling it, just as he felt resentment for any negative emotion.

"Me? Turned to stone?" Mors asked in mock reply. "Who could do tha-"

He stopped, as if realization dawned on him.

"Nightwood." he growled, tightening his grip on the blade. Albert felt a sharp prickle on his temple, as if a needle were being pierced in that particular area. A few drops of the common, scarlet fluid joined the journey of Albert's perspiration as they traveled under his chin.

_Shitzu, _Albert mentally groaned. _That's blood._

Blood.

A Life student's second greatest fear.

Why second, you may ask? The first is Death. Long story short, blood leads to death. End of story.

Almost all Life students have hemophobia, AKA fear of blood. Some were lucky enough to overcome said fear, or were simply born without it. Unfortunately, Albert was one of the unlucky ones. To put simply, he was blood-o-phobic.

"Hello, Mors." Nightwood greeted, a tone of spite in her voice. "Care to release him now?"

Mors didn't reply. Albert gradually felt the tingles leave his forehead as the knife moved farther from him.

"I said," Mors muttered. He was raising the knife as high as he could, as if attempting to aim it down in a sweeping arc. "That if you get near me, Albert Grimwater dies."

Everything seemed to slow down during those few, short minutes as Albert stared at the blade nearing his face. He heard an inaudible scream escape Mr. Hedge-Cutter's lips, but it was quickly cut off by a Death Spark spell that sent him flying towards the staircases. Nightwood, or whatever her real name is, wasn't prepared to eat Mors' shoe, and got knocked out in the process.

Two down, one to go.

_That blade is going to stab me, _Albert thought.

_That _made Albert's instincts kick in.

Before the obsidian blade could pierce him in the head, Albert bent his knees and swooped down, escaping Mors' grip and rolling far away from him. He wasn't a perfect roller; he hardly ever did that sort of activity, and so it resulted in him colliding with a few large adornments as he tried to stop his circular momentum. Even standing up was awkward; he found himself aiming his wand directly at Mors with an open book trying to eat his head and his father's silver ropes ornamenting his arms and legs.

"Seraph," he screamed, trying to summon the divine-like woman. "Seraph, darn it!"

_Why won't it cast?_ he thought, trying one last attempt at the spell. _Shitzu!_

Mors sneered, seeing that his captive had escaped from his iron grip. "Albert Grimwater," he started, "You are _so _much like your mother."

"I told you!" Albert yelled. His hands trembled violently. "She is not my mother!"

Mors smirked.

Albert was getting sick of that twisted curvature.

"What do you want from me!?" Albert asked, his voice turning hoarse. "Why are you doing this?!"

Mors waved his wand, seemingly ignoring Albert's question. Instinctively, Albert drew his own Life symbol in the air, reprimanding himself for forgetting to do it during his previous attempt. Both of them screamed their respective spells, coincidentally in unison. Albert's emerald rays of energy collided with Mors' obsidian ones, and sooner or later they were already ensued in a battle between, quite ironically, Life and Death.

"The Wand of Legends," Mors suddenly spoke in the middle of the conflict. It seemed like a cross between a whisper and a loud, resonating voice. "Ever heard of that, Albert Grimwater?"

Albert, with his teeth gritted, was too busy deflecting Mors' spell to reply.

"That's the wand you _mother_ used to defeat Malistaire." the pale wizard continued. "They fell down that volcano in Dragonspyre, you know."

_Can't...take it...anymore..._ Albert thought, eyes contorted in an effort to make one last defense.

And then _boom! _

Albert felt the wind blow at the back of his head, veering his hair strands forward. He looked at Mors, still smirking, as the necromancer became smaller and smaller. Albert was flying farther away from his opponent. He had been blasted away by the Death spell's impact, he realized.

He never expected his landing to be _so _painful.

"AAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!" was all Albert could say, albeit, scream, as he collided his back with the knob of a large closet. His head collided with the oaken surface. Albert heard something go _crack!, _but he doubted it was the wood. The world spun around him for a moment, then regained its original composure as Albert tried to calm himself down.

Panic, fear and agony.

_What else could happen?_

_By Bartleby, it's painful..._ a sea of rambles was flooding Albert's head, along with the sharp agony that nearly made his brain explode. He took deep breaths, trying to ease the throb in his head. _Painfulpainfulpainfulpainful!_

"I want you to take that wand from The Hero's skeletal clutches." Mors' voice was a muffled mess, but Albert mind was clear enough to understand it. "You're the only one who could do so, Albert Grimwater. Willing or not, you _will _do it. Or else, your father dies."

_Dad..._

"What..." Albert stammered. His eyes were half closed, but he could see Mors inching closer to him. "What did you...do...to my dad?!"

"Your dad?" Mors looked up, as if trying to remember where he tossed away Duncan Grimwater. "I've imprisoned him...ah, but you'll need to guess where. I can't have my plans ruined due to such important information leaked out to you."

"You psycho..." Albert growled, teeth gritted. He gripped his wand as tight as he could, even though he knew that he didn't have the sufficient energy to summon yet another spell. When he raised his hand to do so, he was overcome by a wave of fatigue.

Mors, instead of smirking, laughed. "Ah, all of my victims say that." he pointed out. "You're statement is so very similar in tone to that of Malorn Ashthorn. I remember him screaming that _compliment _in bloody murder as-"

Fortunately, before he could finish his sentence, an attacking banshee shut him up. The two of them collided with each other's bodies, and even though the screeching woman looked transparent, she successfully pinned Mors to the ground.

Mors struggled to escape from the banshee's grip, but his face was still plastered with elation and a smirk. _Seriously? Who does that during an attack?_ Albert asked internally. His vision was gradually blurring, but he could see a black-robed person walk near Mors as the ghostly-blue spellcard faded. Albert's mind was too unclear to even attempt to guess who the hooded wizard was, but he watched as Mors stood up in a swift momentum and slashed at the other necromancer's face.

"Oi oiyll guieell vyoo!" all Albert could hear were muffled voices now, as if he was underwater, listening to inaudible sounds. His mind was unfocused, wild. Trying to bear the throbbing pain.

_Black smudges...moving in fast motion..._ Albert mentally thought, describing what he saw in front of him. _Ooh, everything's yellow now..._

He thought he was seeing the Light. Yellow, shining light. Like the sun.

Like a Krokotopian desert or something...

Or a Sorcerer's robes.

And then there was a face.

Dirty-blonde hair...a butt-chin...

_Mr... Head-Cutter...?_

The world was spinning.

Then, it was black.

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><p><strong>Woah...This is, so far, the shortest chapter I have ever written after the Prologue. 2, 103 words? Shame on me. Writer's block, I hate you!<strong>

**Anyways, I hope you like the mess of a chapter I have written. I know, I know, Mr. Hedge-Cutter's identity still isn't fully revealed yet. The next chapter will concentrate solely on that. So, what do you think of Mors Drake, our main antagonist? And who is this mysterious girl dubbed Nightwood? **

**See that white box below this story? Click that. Write what you think of this story in that white box. Write anything, really. Be it negative or positive. As long as it helps the story improve. After you do so, click that small rectangle on the bottom-right corner. It's labeled "Post review as (insert awesome username here)". Finished? Congratualtions! You have successfully reviewed this story!**

**By the way, while I'm working on this story I might be posting another Wizard101 fanfic. It's going to be an SYOC (Submit your own character/SYOW/Submit your own wizard...whatever). So, keep your eyes open for any of my updates!**

**Once again, I would like to say that criticism is very welcome. Seriously. **

**Thanks again to Ammaarah01 for reviewing the previous chapter. Hahaha. Is this chapter's ending a cliffie to you? Hopefully not. :) **

**- C. J. Selgas**


	6. Chapter 5: Levi Santemillon

**Hello, readers! This is C. J. Selgas, and with me is the fifth chapter! In this chappie you will learn more about Mr. Hedge-Cutter and Nightwood, as Ammaarah01 wanted to. :)**

**By the way, I'd like to say that my updates for this story will be VERY, very non-frequent. It's because school is starting and I'm so busy and etc. Don't worry though, I won't be abandoning this story.**

**Icecakequeen: Really? Thank you very much! Three cookies to you! (::) (::) (::)**

**dragondude77: Yeah. Thank you! Three cookies to you! (::) (::) (::)**

**Ammaarah01: Here you go! Mr. Hedge-Cutter's identity will be revealed here! You liked the fight? YES! Thank you! (Well, you automatically have THREE COOKIES!)**

**Also, I'd like to thank xXScaledHeartXx for following the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Wizard101. Kingsisle does. But I do own Albert Grimwater, the other OCs, and the plot.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Levi Santemillon<strong>

"So, you're saying you had a nightmare?" Jonathan asked, eyeing his best friend with a questioning look.

"Not a nightmare, t_wo _nightmares. And the weird thing about it? I dreamed one inside the other." Albert answered, rubbing his temples and yawning. "I really thought that I was awake during that time. The images just seemed so...real."

"Real, eh?" Jonathan repeated, an eyebrow raised. "What if it _isn't _a dream? What if it's real?"

Albert scoffed, moving a few steps away from Jonathan to give way to a broom-riding wizard. "It's a dream. I'm sure of it."

"Proof, please?" Jonathan veered towards his distanced friend, nearly bumping on walking individuals in the process.

Albert, for a while, contemplated the question. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he replied confidently. "In my nightmare, I got seriously injured. I think my head cracked and my back was bruised during a fight inside that dream. But look!" he touched his head and tried to reach for a particular area in his back. "I'm completely fine!"

"Uh huh," Jonathan crossed his arms, face plastered with doubt.

"I'm serious!" Albert insisted. "And besides, Mr. Hedge-Cutter, Arvie, Mors and Nightwood are weird enough not to exist in real life!"

"Who?" his best friend asked, the expression changing from dubious to furtive. "N-never mind. Alright, alright. I believe it's a dream."

"You better," Albert countered, tousling his own curled hair. "Besides, in my nightmare, this smirking bastard said that I was the son of the Hero. Can you believe that? Me? Son of the Hero? Ha! Impossible!"

"Yeah," Jonathan muttered, uninterested in his friend's point. "Yeah..."

Albert ignored his friend's jaded reply and stared at the road ahead of them, leading all the way towards the Ravenwood gate. The morning sunlight radiated the path in a yellowish-gold glow, casting shadows as the casual crowd walked around the Commons.

"It's Friday, right?" Jonathan suddenly asked, his mood altering.

"Yeah," Albert confirmed, pointing at a nearby calendar to strengthen his reply. They veered their direction to the right as they passed the Headmaster's Office. "First Periods for students in Life, Storm and Balance classes are their secondary schools. That's completely fine with me, though, since I'll be having fun near my father instead of zoning out while listening to Mrs. Griffinlife's zombie-speak."

"My first period is my primary school, though." Jonathan pointed out. "I'm really sick of hearing Cyrus Drake ramble."

"He's a pretty cool teacher, Jon." Albert replied. They passed the metal gates of the wizardry school, entering the campus along with many other students. "And one of the oldest members of the Ravenwood staff,"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, Arv-" He cut himself off, as if trying to edit what he was supposed to say. "I know, Albert."

Before Albert could reply, though, Jonathan steered himself to the left, heading for his respective class. Albert found himself standing at a crossroads, in front of Bartleby, the Grandfather Tree. He was staring out into the horizon, a serene sigh escaping his wooden lips.

"Good morning, Bartleby," Albert greeted, looking up at the large tree. Bartleby looked at Albert, his eyes engulfed with a kind of emotion that indicated his broad scope of wisdom.

"Good morning, Albert Grimwater," he replied to the greeting, smiling at the young Theurgist before him. Albert responded with a goodbye and strolled behind Bartleby; an easy shortcut that led instantly to Albert's current destination: The Death Classroom.

Albert felt tremors occur in his body as he neared the scary school, but he attempted to ignore them. Wilted grass encircled the building, and a big shadow was looming over him, but Albert didn't mind. He was used to it, and at the same time not. The skull sign embedded on the center arc of the roof looked down at him with hollow, empty sockets.

Albert enclosed his fingers around the knob and opened the door, illuminating the various heads of his classmates. His father, though, was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, Al, you look weird today!" one of his classmates opined.

"Professor Grimwater," Albert said, ignoring the random guy's comment. "Where is he?"

"We've been waiting for hours, Albert." another one replied. Albert's face fell as the student spoke another statement, "You're father's not here."

"Ah, but he'll arrive later on. All of the professors will." a girl assured. "Merle Ambrose instituted a meeting a few minutes ago."

"Oh," was all Albert could mutter. "I guess I'll need to wait, then"

He proceeded to walk towards his seat, located at the front row. Everyone stared at him, much to Albert's irritation, but he tried to endure the looks coming his way. There was something off about his classmates, with the professor away for a while they seemed free, out of the cage that they call school. Untied. Uncontrollable.

"You don't need to wait, students," a familiar voice resonated from behind Albert. With an assumption popping up inside Albert's mind, he craned his neck around to see the speaker.

And that's when he thought his nightmares were true.

There, leaning on the sides of the Death school's entrance, was the weirdo from his dream. Well, at least _one _of the weirdos.

The stranger, a man presumably 25-years old, left from his pose and stood up straight, his bladed-staff emitting _tap_ noises as he strode towards the front of the classroom. Everyone's gaze followed his every move, including Albert, who was at that time wondering how the hell the guy sprang out from his nightmares and into real life.

"M-Mr..." Albert stammered. The stranger stared at him, almost as if to glare. He turned around to face the students, who were all gaping at him. "Mr. Hedge-Cutter?"

The man in question raised an eyebrow, as if he was confused to what Albert addressed him. "Mr. Hedge-Cutter? Ah, you must have mistaken me for someone else, kid. My blade does that sometimes. Oh, well. Let me introduce myself properly."

_Why is he denying his identity?_

"This isn't happening," Albert muttered under his breath, loud enough for himself to hear, but so quiet that no one could discern it. "You've gotta be kidding me..."

"I am," the guy twirled his staff and pierced it on the oaken floor, golden dust spewing out from underneath. Probably for dramatic effect, but Albert really didn't care. He was too occupied by the issue to even think about it. "_Levi Santemillon. Promethean Sorcerer of Awesomeness._"

_Levi Santemillon._

"You..." Albert stuttered. "You are related to the Leviathan in some way, aren't you?"

The awkward silence was replaced by a hundred fits of laughter as the words left Albert's mouth.

He might as well say that Levi Santemillon was the man from his nightmares, but it was Albert's habit to blurt out completely stupid statements even in the midst of a serious atmosphere. It was his way of obscuring the negative emotions welling up inside.

If Mr. Hedge-Cutter was here and standing right in front of him, how much real could Mors also be?

Or Nightwood?

Or all the other creeps he encountered in his nightmare?

Was the nightmare even supposed to be called a nightmare if something from it sprang out to real life?

A million questions inhabited Albert's mind, like shards of glass pricking and hitting at him one millisecond at a time. He wanted to answer them all, but unless Mr. Hedge-Cutter gave him at least one clue, the mystery cannot be solved.

"Ah, but I am not the relative of a spellcard, kid." was Levi's answer to Albert's question. "Instead, I am here to become the substitute professor of _your _parental relative."

"What do you mean?" Albert queried.

"I will be your temporary Death Professor," he started, pulling out his staff from the oaken floor. "Until Duncan Grimwater comes back."

"Wait-"

Levi interrupted him, though, by giving one interpretative look: _We'll talk about this later, kid, or you're tasting my leaf-flavored blade._

Albert decided to restrain himself from talking, as much as he wanted to. Levi's actions were making the questions in Albert's mind double up to a billion. And what did he mean by Albert's father coming back? As far as Albert knew, his father never mentioned of a day-off or a vacation or a trip. Yesterday, he...

Yesterday...

Albert contemplated that word. Something was off about it. Very, very off. He just couldn't put the puzzle piece in the right place.

_What's going on? Why is everything becoming so confusing?_

"Alright, then!" Professor Santemillon exclaimed, clapping his hands to get the attention of the jaded students. "Let's start the lesson!"

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><p>The second bell finally chimed.<p>

Unlike the usual drill, the Death students raced towards the exit instead of falling in line. Having a new professor must've made them think: _Oh yeah! I'm free! I can do whatever I want now!_

Inside Albert's mind, though, were different thoughts.

He imagined what the outcome will be if he ever decided to ask Levi some questions. He started planning how to begin the question, and what to reply if ever Levi responded to the query.

"Um, Mr. Santemillon-" he started asking when they were the only ones left in the room.

"Albert." Levi interrupted, though.

"Uh, yes, professor?" Albert replied to the call, nearing the new Death professor. His intent on asking a question receded away from his mind.

"You do remember what happened yesterday, right?" Levi asked, kneeling down to take a few supplied from under the table. "During the...you know..."

Albert's interest was fully captured by Mr. Santemillon's question. "The what, sir?"

_Is he talking about..._

"So, you don't remember?" he concluded, fishing out some card decks and placing them on the table.

_...the dream?_

"Do you remember who I am?" the professor further asked, standing up and looking at Albert straight in the eye. "Before you knew that I was Levi Santemillon?"

"N-no..." Albert lied, his expression becoming furtive. "No, I don't know you."

But he did.

Levi sighed, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "Ah, I must have overdosed you with the sleeping potions..."

_Sleeping potions? _Albert thought, _Me? Overdosed?_

He really wasn't fond of potions, or their chemically magical properties, or their effects when swallowed, so he didn't know what linked sleeping potions with the fact that he couldn't recognize Levi.

"Well, do you remember what happened yesterday?" Professor Santemillon asked again. "The fight with Mors?"

_The fight with Mors... _Albert recalled the scenes in his nightmare. _By Bartleby...was that thing..._

"B-but..." Albert stammered, trying to find the words. "But...that was...a dream..."

"Dream, eh? Was Mr. Hedge-Cutter a dream?" Levi pointed out, eyeing Albert with a quizzical look in his eyes. "You met _me _in that dream, kid."

_So he admits it..._ Albert observed, _He's Mr. Hedge-Cutter, I knew it..._

"If the fight with Mors was a dream, if your encounter with Mr. Hedge-Cutter was a dream," Professor Santemillon further clarified. "then I should have been a dream, too."

In a split second, Albert realized what Levi was implying.

_What the..._ he thought, dumbstruck. A mixture of fear and panic was storming inside his insides, like a tornado ready to rip his head open.

"You mean..." Albert tried to muster enough strength to speak. Right now, he felt too paralyzed with shock and fear and panic and any bad emotion that he hated feeling.

"Yes, Albert," Levi finished for him. "_Your dream is real._"

"But that means..."

"You're the son of the Hero." Levi continued.

"And..."

"Your father is kidnapped, yes." the professor interrupted, yet again. "By a smirking, lunatic serial-killer, moreover."

Albert wanted to protest against Professor Santemillon's assertions, especially the second one. He was sick of hearing someone state that he was the son of the Hero, whom he knew never even got pregnant, had a boyfriend or did _that_ deed. It was just so impossible.

Yet, at the same time, also possible.

_If they're all telling the truth, _he thought, _then I might as well accept it. Or maybe not._

He looked at Levi, contemplating whether to believe him. The guy looked equivocal, to be honest, but Albert was taught not to judge a book by its cover. Now, that was a hard task, though. His cover definitely was hard to open, so Albert wasn't sure if he could read the pages.

"Who are you?" Albert asked. Levi eyes suddenly found interest in his shoes. "What do _all of you _want from me?"

Levi sighed, a forced withdrawal of breath that is akin to that done by individuals who do not know the answer. But Albert observed through Levi's actions that the man knew the correct response, and was probably just trying to construct a sentence compatible of persuasion.

"I am your protector." he finally replied.

It was quite a suitable answer, but Albert's curiosity was still insatiable. He wanted to ask more, and to know more, but he doubted Levi would answer all his questions if he was too inquisitive.

"Protector?" Albert repeated. "Since when did I need that?"

"Ever since you were a child." Levi responded, twirling his bladed staff. "I've been watching over you ever I was 19."

"Why?"

A faint sound of explosions lingered from the distance, but the two of them sensed it. Albert was uninterested enough to ignore it, but Levi posed in a guarded stance.

"Not that much time to reply, kid." he explained, seeing Albert's confused expression. "Ugh, I'm so stupid. I should've never lengthened our conversation to this point."

"What do you mean?"

"We need to hurry." he answered. "I was sent here to bring you to _him__._"

"Him?" Albert queried. "Who's him?"

"No time," Levi answered, raising his hand high up in the air. "Right now, we will need a fast vehicle."

A broom materialized in his palm.

A _broom._

"Wait, no-" before Albert could protest further, Levi lifted him up by the shoulder and placed him on the backside of the broom. Albert tried to wriggle out of his position, but something was restraining him.

"The Sweeper 007 locks the rider in his place." Levi informed, mounting himself in the front. "I know you hate brooms, but it's our only way of escape, kid."

He aimed the broomstick directly at the Death classroom exit. On the back, Albert felt the broom's brush heat up. Whitish-blue mist spewed out from the tips of the brush, floating about in all directions.

Everything became a blur as the broom revved up to full speed.

Albert tried to fix his eyes on one particular spot, which was the front. He tilted his head slightly to the right too see what was beyond Professor Santemillon's curly, blonde hair. They were nearing the exit, but even though they still didn't reach the outside, Albert could already see the chaos.

And when they did get outside, all he could see was _fire._

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><p><strong>READER: Aw no! Not another damn cliffie!<strong>

**Well, I apologize for such a habit, readers. I know, I feel you, too. I myself am a victim of arm dislocation due to hanging off a cliff, but I also dislocate arms by making _you_ hang off the cliff, so were actually both even. (As Ammaarah01 stated, it's irony).**

**Hopefully this chapter was good enough. I'm suffering from writer's block due to the fact that school's already here and we have a lot of homework to do and it's making me insane!**

**But anyways, FINALLY! Now you know who Mr. Hedge-Cutter is. Levi Santemillon, his eponymous real name. Did you like his name? No? Yes? How's this chapter? Is it okay? No? Don't be afraid to state any criticism! It's very welcome in this story. Now, type what you think in that little white box over there!**

**Also, I've posted a poll in my profile that asks a question regarding my upcoming story. Check it out if you want!**

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Remember to review! Because Albert and Levi's broom won't go fast if they don't get the fuel!**

**- C. J. Selgas**


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